Billy grinned, afraid he was going to bust out laughing all over again if she started fanning herself. “On the contrary, Miss Fine. Transactions are negotiated nearly every hour of the day and night in this establishment. But if it’ll make you more comfortable…” He marched over to the wall and banged on it with his fist. “Hey! Keep it down over there! I’ve got a lady in here.”

His request was greeted by muffled laughter, both male and female, and a resumption of the moans and squeaking at a more leisurely pace. As he sauntered back over to the table, Esmerelda gave him a look of withering disdain.

He knew she was done trying to charm him. He just didn’t know if the hollow feeling in his belly was regret or relief.

The woman was clearly a hazard, both to herself and to his peace of mind. He could just imagine her marching into seedy saloons all over the Territory, seeking a tracker to find her greenhorn of a brother. The image sent an invisible shudder through him. He’d seen too many innocent young girls come west to seek their fortunes only to end up flat on their backs like Dorothea in the next room, servicing immigrant mill hands and grateful cowboys for silver dollars. He doubted the genteel Miss Fine would survive such a fate. His only hope was to send her scurrying to catch the next stagecoach out of Calamity.

“I may not have cash on hand, Mr. Darling,” she said, “but I can assure you that I have other resources.”

He looked her up and down, deliberately insinuating the worst. “Oh, I never doubted that.”

Their gazes locked as the sounds next door escalated to a wild crescendo. Billy’s room suddenly seemed too small and close for them to stand without touching, even though neither of them had moved.

A guttural roar nearly drowned out a woman’s sobbing moan. After a brief silence, the clink of coins was followed by the thud of a door gently closing. Zimmerman probably hadn’t even bothered to unhook his suspenders, Billy thought wryly.

Esmerelda tore her gaze away from his with visible difficulty and took a shuddering gulp of air. “I’ll have you know, sir, that my grandfather is a peer of the realm.”

He rocked back on his heels, feigning ignorance. “Is that a treatable condition?”

“He’s a duke,” she bit off. “An extremely wealthy man.” When he failed to drop to one knee or doff his hat, she hastily added, "And he dotes on my brother. He always has. Once my letter informing him that Bartholomew is missing reaches London, I’m sure he’ll be more than eager to offer a handsome reward for his nephew’s return.”

Billy squinted at her. “Dead or alive?”

If looks could kill, she’d have no further need of her derringer. Her jaw was still clenched when she lowered her lethal gaze and began to pace around the table. “Bartholomew is Grandfather’s sole heir, you see, and there’s always been a deep and abiding affection between the two of them. I mailed my letter over four months ago when I first began to prepare for my journey west. Why, Grandpapa may have already received it! And if so, he probably caught the first steamer departing for America. He could arrive at any moment! That’s why it’s even more imperative that you agree to help me, Mr. Darling. You’ll get every penny I owe you. You have my word on it.”

She stopped near enough to touch him, those maple candy eyes of hers melting to an imploring amber.

Billy tipped back his hat, pretending to ponder her offer. He had played his first hand of poker at four years old. He could recognize a bluff when he saw one. The virtuous Miss Fine was lying through her pretty white teeth. Her deceit intrigued him, but not enough to dissuade him from trying to chase her back to Boston where she belonged.

It seemed that task was going to require more drastic measures than he’d anticipated. Which was precisely why he decided to call her bluff for the second time in that day.

“I’ll accept your offer, Duchess, but only on my terms. If your grandfather hasn’t arrived with gold in hand by the time I locate this brother of yours, then I’ll require payment in full.” He cupped her cheek in his hand and captured her gaze with his own, determined to leave no doubt whatsoever about the nature of his demand. “From you.”

As he awaited her response, he allowed his thumb to roam freely over the inviting softness of her lower lip. Her eyes widened. Her lips trembled, parting slightly beneath the pressure of his thumb. Her breath quickened, causing her small, plump breasts to rise and fall in an uneven cadence.

Billy had anticipated the effect his touch would have on her, but he was not prepared for its effect on him. Desire squeezed his groin in a ruthless vise, making him wish for a brief but piercing moment that he was exactly the sort of man he was pretending to be.

Emotions flickered across her face. Fear. Outrage. Desperation. And something more elusive. Something that made him wonder just what she would do if he slid his hand through the disheveled skein of her hair, tipped her head back, and caressed her lips with his mouth instead of his thumb.

But before he could succumb to that dangerous temptation, her expression hardened to contempt.

Billy braced himself for the slap he knew was coming. The slap he deserved for daring to make a lady such a scandalous proposition.

Her face was as pale as milk, but her eyes glittered with scorn. “Very well, Mr. Darling. Consider yourself hired.”

“What?” Billy nearly shouted the word. His hand fell numbly to his side. He’d expected her to run shrieking from the room in maidenly horror, not accept his crude proposal.

But it seemed he had underestimated both her determination and her devotion to her brother. A mistake he dared not make again.

While he stood there, still reeling with shock, she bustled around the room with businesslike efficiency, tying on her battered bonnet and gathering up her belongings. “I shall be at the hotel, assuming this provincial village has one. I’ll meet you at the restaurant promptly at seven tomorrow morning so we can discuss our plans.”

Billy’s eyes widened further. He hadn’t risen before ten since he’d retired to the whorehouse to recover from his gunshot wound.

She snapped on her gloves, then hesitated, frowning in dismay. “I hate to trouble you, sir, but might I borrow enough money to pay for a night’s lodging?”

He reached into his pocket and handed her a fat wad of his poker winnings. She could have taken the whole thing and he would have been too dazed to protest.

She peeled off one of the smaller bills and handed back the rest. “Just add it to my tab,” she suggested, her smile sharp enough to raise welts.

“My pleasure, ma’am.” He suspected his cocky grin was only a wan shadow of its former self.

She started for the door, then returned to sweep up the plate of beefsteak and potatoes. “No point in letting a perfectly good supper go to waste.”

When she had departed, the plate cradled tenderly in the crook of her arm, Billy sank down on the bed and dragged off his hat, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Miss Patches surveyed him from the rocker, her feline hauteur unruffled, while Sadie waddled out from under the bed to lean against his knee.

He gave the hound a distracted scratch before raking a hand through his own hair. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he breathed. “I will be damned.”

But for the first time in more years than he could remember, he didn’t feel like it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

My dearest Grandfather, Esmerelda wrote in her neat script. She nibbled on the end of the fountain pen for a thoughtful moment before going back and marking out the My and the est.

“Dear Grandfather,” she read aloud.

Scowling, she slashed through the Dear, leaving only Grandfather. She had thought to pen an earnest plea for deliverance, but even that stark salutation rang false to her ears. She crumpled the stationery in her fist before dragging a fresh sheet across the desk. It was well past midnight, but restlessness plucked at her nerves, making sleep impossible. If Sheriff McGuire hadn’t been kind enough to retrieve her trunk and violin case from the old cowpoke and have it sent to the hotel, she would have been penning her letter on the back of Billy Darling’s Wanted poster.

Lord Wyndham, she scribbled, forsaking her flawless penmanship for an impassioned scrawl, It is with great trepidation and no little regret that I am writing to inform you that due to your enduring neglect and indifference, I have been forced to barter my virtue to a ruthless desperado.

She pressed a hand to her cheek, distracted by the memory of Billy Darling’s possessive touch. He had sought to bully her, yet his touch had been as tender as a lover’s caress. The realization provoked a curious shiver that she prayed was fear. She’d nearly killed a man today, then lied shamelessly to his face. She didn’t think she could bear to add wantonness to her growing list of sins.

Curling her bare toes beneath the hem of her gown, she resumed her brisk scribbling. I trust you will suffer no distress on my behalf, since you never have before. Ever your devoted granddaughter… Esmerelda Fine.

She dotted the final i with savage violence. The pen spat an ugly blob of ink onto the page.

Groaning, Esmerelda lowered her head to the desk, tempted to bang it in frustration. She could post this letter at dawn and it still wouldn’t reach England for weeks. And even if it were to miraculously wing its way there on the morrow, she knew that it would meet with nothing but her grandfather’s apathy and scorn. She’d lingered in Boston for nearly three months after posting that first letter to him, hoping for a reply that she’d known in her heart would never come.